By Fire and Water
by Lemon Goddess
Summary: Touga's experiences leading up to ADOLESCENCE MOKUSHIROKU. Lemon-flavoured, with major spoilers for the movie. More chapters to come.


BY FIRE AND WATER  
an Utena fanfic  
by the Lemon Goddess  
  
STANDARD DISCLAIMER: "Adolescence of Utena," all characters, places,   
creations, ideas, the whole rose-duel thing, etc. are © BePaPas,   
Kunihiko Ikuhara, Chiho Saito, and other various people that are not   
myself. They are used here only with a fangirl's enthusiasm and no   
other license.  
  
WARNING #1: This fic contains an incredible amount of spoilers for the   
Utena movie (specifically for Touga). If you don't want to spoil the   
crack-filled fun that is "Adolescence Mokushiroku," watch it first and   
then come back and read this -- hell, the movie might scare you away   
from this.  
  
WARNING #2: There is a lemon scene within this fic. If you don't like   
that sort of thing, or if your parents would ground you for looking at   
it, you are free to leave right now. Now you know ... and knowing is   
half the battle!  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Here is big enough for everyone to have their own private universe.   
But that isn't why you haven't seen [her] ... is it?" --Albert, WHAT   
DREAMS MAY COME  
  
  
  
I used to wonder what it meant when people would say "My life flashed   
before my eyes." But I saw it ... short as it was ... spinning past   
me, around me, living it as I observed it. Utena-chan ... the cabbage   
patch ... my father ...  
  
"TOUGA-SAMA!!!"  
  
I heard water ... screaming ... Utena-chan ... or Juri-chan ... no.   
It was neither. It was that other girl. The one I barely knew. The   
one with the maroon hair, the meek voice ... the one who never spoke   
to me, but always stared shyly ...  
  
"TOUGA-SAMAAAAAAAA!!!!!"  
  
* * *  
  
"... a dream?" I looked around myself. I was sitting in a small   
booth, a mirror on the wall opposite me. I looked at myself in the   
mirror. Yes, I was still there ... small, pale, with the long hair   
that my foster "father" had loved so much. A dream. A wonderful   
explanation. But it offered little to no explanation as to my new   
surroundings.  
  
"What is your name?" The voice was a man's: deep, well-spoken, almost   
hypnotic.  
  
"Kiryuu Touga," I whispered. "Age twelve."  
  
"Speak." The booth seemed to move.  
  
"I ..." What was I to say? I frowned thoughtfully. "I was sold a   
year ago to a foster father. Mother died the year before that. My   
younger sister ... she disappeared to God knows where. Father was   
poor. He said I would have a better life in a new home. That I could   
have the opportunities he no longer had."  
  
"Deeper," the voice murmured. "Go deeper."  
  
"I don't know if Father knew what the man really was. Maybe he did.   
Father was always a bit strange when it came to judging others." I   
forced a laugh. "But I never put up a fight. Never, because ... I   
wanted those opportunities." I took a breath. The booth felt as   
though it was hurtling downwards.  
  
"I wanted to have what Father couldn't have anymore. I wanted ... I   
wanted to be a Prince."  
  
"A Prince ..." The voice echoed my words quietly.  
  
"For Juri-chan ... for Utena ... Utena's parents are gone now. I   
wanted to be there for her. I wanted to be her Prince. To be-" I   
broke off. The sounds of water rushing, Juri-chan screaming,   
Utena-chan crying ... that girl ... My head spun as the booth   
clattered downward.  
  
"I was Juri's Prince," I whispered meekly. "I saved her. But I had   
to ... I had to choose between them. Why? Why can't I be there for   
Utena now?" I lifted my head. The truth ... I knew the truth now.   
It hit me forcefully in the chest, a hateful sword.  
  
"I died for Juri ... Utena has no one now. But for Utena ... I want   
to be there for her. I want to help her ..." My throat tightened, my   
voice strained. "I want to be her Prince!"  
  
The booth gave a sickening lurch, and I dropped to my knees. I was   
crying. Princes don't cry, I whispered to myself. I won't drown   
myself a second time ... I won't ...  
  
"I understand." It was the same voice, behind me now. I looked up   
slowly. A dark figure, pale purple hair, a white uniform ... this man   
looked a true Prince. But his eyes ...  
  
"I suppose you have no choice but to revolutionize the world."  
  
I rose to my feet slowly. He led me through the open doors of the   
elevator into a dark room. I followed, almost blindly. What   
difference did it make now?  
  
The man turned and faced me again, something small and silver in one   
hand. "The way before you has been prepared."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Utena-chan had always had high ideals. A mind filled with fairy   
tales, princes on white horses, romantic futures, happily-ever-afters.   
I suppose that's where my ideals came from, in the end. We would sit   
by the lake, she would read from her little pocket-book of fairy tales   
to me.  
  
"Do you think Princes really exist?"  
  
I would shrug. "They're stories, Utena. Who knows if any of that is   
true?"  
  
"Oh, Touga." Utena would frown bitterly. "That's the problem with   
you ... always tossing aside what you can't see as not being real."  
  
I suppose she was right, after all. Maybe I believed in fairy tales   
before that. Maybe, once upon a time, I used to fight invisible   
monsters with my toy sword. But how can you believe in Princes ...   
how, when you can't defend yourself from the things you most fear?   
When you're left alone, bruised, embarrassed, crying, in the cabbage   
patch ...  
  
I was in a church now. It was raining outside, thundering, the wind   
blowing enough to make the lights flicker ominously. A small figure   
was huddled in the front of the church, crying. Utena-chan ...  
  
"You want to talk to her, don't you?" The dark figure loomed over me.   
I looked up at him cautiously, as though he were a gorgon, as though   
any sort of monster could do harm to a ghost.  
  
I glared at the figure. "You took me away from her," I snapped.   
"Just when I ..."  
  
"Just when what?" His voice was deep and calm. "Just when you knew   
what you could give her? Just when you knew what it was to be a   
Prince? When you knew they ... WE ... truly existed?"  
  
"I want another chance." My voice was a whisper. "I want to be there   
for her. I want to be her Prince." I turned my eyes away from the   
weeping figure. "Please. Give me another chance."  
  
A slow smile spread across the man's face. "That's quite a tall   
order, boy. A second chance for one already dead?" He put his hand   
on my head, twining his long fingers through my hair. I shuddered;   
there was something odd and cold about his touch ... cold, yet   
stangely sensual. I steeled myself angrily against the feeling.  
  
"Very well." He snatched his hand away. "I ask only one thing in   
return."  
  
"Anything." I didn't hesitate. For this ... for a chance to be with   
Utena-chan ... no price was too great.  
  
He handed me the ring. "This is your key. Your passport. It's a   
sort of game. And you'll be the first player." He stepped aside; a   
small, slight, wide-eyed girl, a darker-haired and far lovelier   
version of himself, stepped forward silently.  
  
"The prize ... a Bride. But the true Prince may choose any Bride he   
wishes when he has won." He put his arm around the girl's waist and   
kissed her softly on top of her head. "She has the power to make   
anyone a Prince ... to lead her Prince to the castle where eternity   
dwells. Within that castle lies anything you could dream of ...   
nobility, wealth ..." His eyes moved to the weeping figure. "An   
eternity with Tenjou Utena.  
  
"Eternity ..." The word was intoxicating. I stared at the girl with   
the wide eyes and lithe body, the dark hair cascading down her back in   
graceful waves. Slowly, I lifted the ring, engraved with a small   
rose. The Rose Signet.  
  
"Play my game, Kiryuu Touga ... and if you win, as you very well may,   
anything and everything you desire will become yours."  
  
I turned away for a moment to look once more at Utena. "Don't worry,"   
I whispered. "I'll be here. I'll come back for you ... and then ...   
we can stay together. You won't be alone anymore." The doll-like   
girl cast a slow glance at Utena, then back at myself.  
  
The ring slid easily onto my left ring finger. "I accept."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
There is no past or future to a ghost. There is only the now, the   
here, with all times and all events running together, each moment in   
the universe merely a step in a different direction. Utena-chan, her   
misery, her childhood, slipped through my fingers like water, passing   
me by as though it had never existed.  
  
Holding a real sword in my hand was new to me. It had a balance to be   
learned, an almost lethal chill in the hilt. I practiced alone, with   
Akio -- for such, I learned, was the Prince's name. His young sister   
would watch us, would cling to her brother when I practiced my stance   
alone.  
  
Despite my separation from Utena-chan, my love for her still burned   
within me. But even so, I often found my eyes wandering to the young   
girl. Himemiya Anthy, Akio told me, was her name. Until then, I knew   
her only as a prize to be won. She was charming in her own way,   
attractive, but with a strange underlying level to her ... beautiful   
in the way a fire is beautiful. As my skills progressed, I found   
myself more and more intrigued by her.  
  
"What is she?" I asked Akio prior to sparring. "How can she offer   
anyone eternity?"  
  
"She gave it to me," Akio replied, glancing over his shoulder. She   
was cowed, shadowed, in a corner. "Once. And like the witch she is,  
she stole it away again. Whoever can win her, owns her. Every part  
of her." I stared into the pools of green that were Anthy's eyes,   
and I knew what he meant. I felt my mind being torn ...  
  
"Would you fight me for her, Kiryuu?"  
  
I stared at Akio for a long time. Up at him, for in my mind and soul,   
I remained the child I was when I had died. Our past few duels had   
fallen decidedly in my favour. Even Akio admitted I was becoming one   
of his best by far. I nodded slowly, and Anthy, as though programmed   
to respond, stepped between us, holding two roses. She pinned one to   
the breast pocket of my shirt, one to that of her brother's.  
  
"If the rose is knocked off," she said quietly to me, "you lose." She   
stepped aside in silence, her hands folded. Something about her seemed  
older, more mature and graceful. But there didn't seem to be any true   
change in her that I could observe. Not yet.  
  
I raised my sword timidly. Akio had a glint in his eye, almost   
fearful, that hinted he was no longer playing at these duels. Slowly,   
I assumed fencing stance.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
The petals seemed to fly away on a wind of their own.  
  
"Well done," Akio said quietly, lowering his sword. I felt a pair of   
arms wrap around me. It was Anthy, her devotion to her brother   
seemingly transferred to me the instant I had destroyed his rose. I   
stared at her, awestruck.  
  
"But don't think," her brother went on, "that you will go   
unchallenged. There are other Duellists that wish to take your place.   
You'll meet them soon enough."  
  
I think I nodded; I was so stunned, lost in the victory, lost in the   
sheer excitement of it all. I HAD WON. The means were there. Now I   
needed only the end.  
  
I turned back to face Akio once again, but now I wasn't looking up at   
him. Our eyes were nearly level with each other's. As though several   
years had passed in an instant, which they may have done without my   
knowledge, I stood by him as an equal, an adult. Himemiya was next to   
me, the spark of maturity I had seen only moments ago now having   
spread, showing herself to me as a young lady. Her dress was white, a   
modern fairy tale's bridal gown, trimmed with red and gold, a tiara   
nestled in her cascade of purple hair.  
  
She was my bride. My Rose Bride.  
  
Akio vanished, a glimmer in the air. Only Himemiya and I remained,   
alone together in a marble-white nothingness. She pressed her cheek   
against my chest, the petals of my rose brushing against her mocha   
skin. She was intoxicating ... her mere presence was addictive. In   
the back of my mind was Utena-chan ... I fancied I could see her, her   
long pink hair now cut short, her bearing regal, almost masculine ...   
but she was still lovely. That could never change.  
  
"Touga-sama ..." The voice was faint, coming from the scented rose,   
from Himemiya's emotionless face. She looked up at me, a painted doll.  
My doll.  
  
I angrily brushed the thoughts away. No ... no, this girl ... this   
CREATURE was not my goal. I wanted Utena, only Utena. The Bride   
would bring me back to her. But in spite of myself, in spite of my   
thoughts of Utena, Himemiya pulled at me subconsciously ... submissive   
and meek, but still bewitching.  
  
My mind seemed to go numb, my hands act of their own accord, as I   
lifted her chin and pressed my lips gently against hers. She   
responded in a practiced manner, parting her lips, her soft tongue   
searching for mine as the kiss mingled between us. Her arms, slim and   
gentle, wrapped around my neck, fingers twining through my hair in a   
familiar fashion ... Akio, her brother ... I pushed that away. It was   
only the Bride, the girl, the prize, that existed with me now.  
  
She pulled away carefully, a butterfly removing itself from a spider's   
web. One dark hand ran down the front of her vest, undoing the buttons  
as easily as if she were undressing for sleep. It fell away from her   
body; the full skirt, the superfluous buttoned cuffs, all but her gold   
tiara, followed in kind, unbidden by any hand, as though they fell at   
her wish ... or, perhaps, mine.  
  
She stood naked, unashamed, before me, her eyes still blank pools of   
emerald green. I approached her quietly, as though she were a deer   
that might start and run. But she stood still, her hands clasped   
delicately in front of her. She was beautiful, gentle, and I felt my   
hands, my lips, wishing to explore every facet of her body and soul.  
  
I kissed her again, my fingers tracing the delicate lines of her back,   
and she yielded once again, the only sound between us being her soft   
breathing growing slightly deeper. I ran my hands over her shoulders,   
her waist, her buttocks, feeling every curve, observing and absorbing   
her like a glorious work of art. My hands travelled to her breasts,   
soft with dark nipples. I kissed them, feeling her head tilt back   
slightly without needing to see it.  
  
Silence, but for the Bride's pleasured sighs, filled the void. I   
moved with her like a sleepwalker, lost in her intoxicating presence,   
in the light and comfort she seemed to exude. Her back was pressed   
against my chest as one hand cupped a breast and the other began a   
gentle search between her legs. Her gasp was like a child's cry, soft   
and high in her throat. I kissed her hair, her neck, as I continued   
to gently work my fingers over her sex, and ventured one finger inside   
of her. She responded almost animalistically, arching against me,   
physically pleading for me to continue, as though unable to speak.  
  
I continued to massage her, my other hand squeezing gently at her   
breast, until I felt a shiver run through her and heard a ragged gasp.   
She leaned against me weakly, her bare breasts against my chest, her   
trembling hands unbuttoning my uniform jacket.  
  
We were swept back into the nearly-unconscious reverie as she slowly   
pushed my clothes away from my body, leaving me naked and prone as   
herself, her hands and lips responding to me however I pleased, without  
a word from me. She was practiced, but there was a coldness, a   
detachment, that occurred to me only after we had parted.  
  
I carefully pushed myself into her, as deeply as I could, until the two  
of us were pressed close against each other. We entwined like a pair   
of trees, our actions losing any intelligent thought, our sighs and   
moans of pleasure strained and echoed in the whiteness surrounding us.  
My mind wheeled as I felt myself climax, clinging to the Bride as   
though I might fall away into nothingness without her.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
I would see her, standing nearby, wherever I was. Whenever I was. But  
there were no looks of love, no questions. Just the same emotionless   
face, as though our joining had been a chore, a job she did   
unquestioningly. I couldn't bear it.  
  
As Akio's world built up around us, with its moving stairways and   
unsupported towers, I felt myself begin to loathe the sight of   
Himemiya. If I spoke to her, her response was affectionate ... but a   
practiced affection, lines from a play she had memorized long ago.  
  
The observatory was empty but for the two of us. I saw other Duellists  
milling about below ... perhaps two or three. Ants. It seemed that   
new people found their way into Akio's beautiful trap every day. Only   
a handful spoke to Akio himself, only a handful received the silver   
ring.  
  
"What will you do," I asked quietly, "if someone else wins you from   
me?"  
  
A soft laugh. "Oh, Touga-sama ... no one has challenged you yet. And   
if they did, how could they win?"  
  
"We're all fallible, Himemiya."  
  
Her soft arms encircled me; her voice held the practiced affection of   
before. "That doesn't matter right now. As long as-"  
  
I lost my mind for the slightest moment ... when it returned,   
Himemiya sat wounded on the floor, a hand pressed against her cheek.   
My hand was raised. I stared at it in disbelief. Why ...  
  
"Touga-sama ..."  
  
Those eyes stared up at me again, the emptiness threatening to swallow   
me. And I knew. I lowered my hand. How could I ... with that   
creature, that emotionless girl, that doe-eyed succubus? I stared at   
her, unable to sympathize with her pain.  
  
"What have you done to me?"  
  
Himemiya's eyes shimmered with tears. Real tears. Perhaps the first   
she had ever shed.  
  
"You're pulling me away from her," I whispered. "I ... I never wanted   
you. I only want her back. I want Utena back."  
  
"Utena ..."  
  
I turned away, looking at her only peripherally. "If this is what your  
eternity is ... I don't want it. I'd sooner have half a moment alone   
with her. Unless you can bring her back to me ..."  
  
Her hand dropped to her lap, and she looked up at me coldly. I was   
shocked to see emotion behind her eyes, though what it was was unclear.  
A muddle of confusion, perhaps, followed by a simple statement.  
  
"Then you'll lose your next duel."  
  
I turned toward her again, lowering my head. "You are not mine to   
keep. You're not what I need, Himemiya."  
  
Her eyes remained locked with mine as she stood, adjusting the pleats   
of her teal uniform skirt to fall evenly. She was barefoot, but the   
domed observatory echoed with her footsteps as she left.  
  
I stared after her, not immediately noticing another silhouette in the   
doorway. It was obviously female, a little shorter than Himemiya, with  
a bearing that betrayed an odd strength.  
  
"... Utena?"  
  
The figure stepped forward into a beam of light. The hair was a rich   
maroon, in shallow waves that ended at her slim chin. Her uniform was   
accented with frills and lace. It seemed to suit her, in a strange   
way.  
  
"Kiryuu Touga ..."  
  
I continued to stare. In the back of my mind came the screaming from   
the river ... the day I saved Juri-chan. The voice that was neither   
Juri's nor Utena's. The maroon-haired girl. The one who only looked   
at me shyly. She was looking at me again now, just the same.  
  
"Touga-sama, are you a part of this world now, too?"  
  
Her name was unknown to me, always had been, but I spoke it now as   
though she had been by my side forever.  
  
"Takatsuki Shiori ..."  
  
  
  
[TO BE CONTINUED] 


End file.
